Heyhihowareya?
I have a rather obvious confession to make: I’m terrible at blogging. Not proficiency-wise, I think I do okay there, but I just totally suck at sitting down to it. I think about this blog a lot. Like, A LOT. I make pages of mental notes of things to blog about: cool things God is showing me, lessons I’m learning(mostly the hard way), and musings on the nature of being a missionary. I want to think and write and share my life with people. Somewhere it all gets lost in translation. To those who are interested in this crazy journey of mine, I do apologize for not keeping in touch. It’s not you, it’s me. I promise before God and the Internet to do better.
All formalities aside, here we are. Here I am. And today’s blerg* is a serious one.
When I applied to go on the World Race, there were about 37 steps. Only a slight exaggeration. First, I applied. Who are you, why do you want to go on the race, talk about your testimony. Easy stuff. The next step was a questionnaire about sins I may struggle with. A list of things ranging from self harm, depression, drug use, problems with the law, sexual sin, etc., and you have to mark whether you A) currently struggle; B) struggled in the past; or C) Do not struggle with each one. I felt like lying through the whole thing. I promise I didn’t. Anyway, after the questionnaire is a section asking you to E X P L A I N everything you marked “yes.” Then! A miracle! The application is finished! But afterward, there’s a phone interview in which you have to talk to a real live human(not just a screen) about the same stuff. It’s all very refining. I typically talk about refinement in a whiny tone of voice, because I don’t like it. But I do understand that I am an imperfect creation in need of polishing, and that the Lord can and is changing my heart through this process. I honestly could never complain about that.
When I was accepted to go on the Race, there was a condition. I had to go to therapy. The reason I had to go to therapy is because I marked that I have struggled with self-harm and depression in the past. To this day, I still struggle with depression, but by the grace of God, I haven’t tried to hurt myself in a long time. I understand the qualifier of seeing a therapist, and I’m honestly thankful for it. I don’t want to get thousands of miles away from my safety net and, for lack of a better term, lose my crap.
Therapy is a funny thing.
I really like my doctor. He’s kind of an atypical dad-type. He wears loafers. He has a man bun(!!!) He laughs at my jokes. I think I’m finally comfortable talking to him. He does these weird, shrinky things like telling me stuff about myself that I don’t already know. He’s well-acquainted with the Gospel. I saw him today, in fact. We discussed how upset the news makes me. Theorized on why I haven’t been sleeping. We talked about how tomorrow is the 11th anniversary of my mom’s death.
Pause for a moment. This is the part where I want to breeze over that last thing I said, continue on making humorous observations about my psychiatrist, my life, and all that goes along with it. But I need to talk about this. It’s a big piece of my walk with the Lord. It’s a huge reason I’m going on the World Race. It’s not something I talk about much. It’s been 11 years. A lifetime and a split second. I wasn’t raised in a faith-filled family. I didn’t even come to know the Lord until about a year after my mom passed away. If you asked me if she went to Heaven, I couldn’t tell you. I miss her, even though I don’t verbalize it. I miss her the way your feet miss land on a turbulent plane ride. I miss her the way you miss food in the hours before anesthesia. I loved her… still love her, wildly, and it makes me ache to think that my baby brother has now been alive without her for more years than with. When I get down, it’s easy to think of myself as a motherless child. But I know I’m not winning any wars by pitying myself. Which is what I told my therapist this afternoon. I told him that my only solution was to make myself as independent as possible, so that no one would ever think I was needy or feel sorry for me. Yes, I lost my mom at a young age. But I’m okay, I told him. I don’t need to depend on anyone but God. (This sounds noble, but it’s actually not true. Part of loving people and living in community with them is trust and sharing each other’s burdens.) It was a lot of me making statements about how I don’t need anyone, and him asking why. Why? Why? Why? And then, I said it.
“Because the LAST TIME I depended on someone, she DIED!”
Yep. I said that. Today. I imagine this is like gold to a mental health professional. We probably made some sort of breakthrough. Afterward, I was ashamed of myself for saying it. But I have been praying over this for the last several hours, and this is what I’ve come up with:
Matthew 5:4 says “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” 1 Corinthians 1:3-5 says “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ’s sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.” What my human mind thinks, and what my flesh is inclined to believe is that I am alone and abandoned in this world, there is no reprieve. There are days where I default to this mindset. But what the Word says, what the CREATOR of the UNIVERSE has to say about that is just the opposite. I am not forgotten, but beloved. I am cradled. I am blessed. And boy, am I ever.
I want to live a life that my mom would be proud of. I hope that I am someone she would not only love because I’m her progeny, but also that I am someone she would like to be around. A friend. Her memory inspires me to be brave. Her memory inspires me to pursue what’s right. It’s interesting that my mother, who never went to church a day in my life, is who inspires me to run after the Lord. But God is funny. Life is a funny thing.
Sometimes I lose myself in comparison to other racers. I think that my life should look more like theirs. I should be more humble, more accepting, more adventurous. I definitely have room to improve. But I have no doubt that I’m supposed to be doing this. So obviously, God has a purpose for Erin Boresi on the World Race. Me. In all of my brokenness, insecurity, depression, mania, passion, hilarity, courage, and laziness. I am not a motherless child, but in fact a prized daughter of the King of Kings! I am not unfit, I am changing! I am not perfect, and I don’t want to be! I’m fine with being unimpressive, because I belong to the One who spoke the universe into creation, with me on His mind on that day! And that’s pretty dang impressive! If you’re a current or future racer wondering if you can hack it, I want you to know that God doesn’t call a specific “type” to advance His kingdom. I struggle with remembering this. If He calls you to it, He will prepare you. He will change you. It hurts. But it’s eternity. Hold the line. Because you inspire me, too.
All my love, thanks for reading.
Erin
*Note: sometimes, I spell things wrong to be funny. Blerg= a funny take on the word “blog.” Also: the sound I make when I think about blogging, before I check my attitude:)
